Reader Interactive Story

Fayth Frazier, Bleu Print Staff

Readers, we need your help to finish the story! Read the prompts below and write a continuation to the story. Enter your submission below in the comments section and your writing could be featured as the next part of the story next Monday. 

Prompt: I’ve been missing for three days. I can tell because there’s a tiny, high window in here and I’ve kept myself awake since they threw me in here and locked the door. That’s all I know. I assume the entire Secret Service isn’t sleeping either, considering my safety is their most important gig, but who knows, this could be an inside job.

I was on my way to the capital, just my dog and I, cruising through the states trying to find a new home. We are travelers, nomads if you want to call us that. My dog Lucy and I live in a van and travel throughout the states visiting landmarks and national parks. This time it was the capital. Little did I know I was being watched as we visited. Someone wants me dead and I’m not sure why, but this is unnerving considering I mostly travel alone. Is someone watching me? Is there something I did that was illegal? Was it something about me? I’ve never exactly been a normal girl considering that I live in a van with only a dog and travel the country. I grew up homeschooled, and an only child to a veteran and a farmer. I never had any problems growing up, but this made me rethink my whole life. 

Prompt 2: I’ve been a nurse long enough to know when a person is lying. Only one thing leaves a mark like that, and the quicker I can get the patient, to tell the truth, the quicker I can start them on the path to healing. 

This woman was young, with strawberry blonde hair and freckles to match. She had this way of speaking, almost a whisper but with more aggression. She was suffering from a large wound on her thigh, it looked like a handprint but there were large cuts like she was attacked by an animal or something. She told me it was from her dog, but dogs don’t bite that deep. When she told me what it was, I chuckled; I knew she was lying by how defensive she got when I asked if she was really sure that’s what it was. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure what this wound was, but it was not a dog bite.